


serenade

by biscuit_things



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Iwaizumi loves to sing, Kissing, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oikawa loves listening to him, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip, i think, kind of, kinda like those 5+1 things but not exactly that, rated t for like this mild make out scene thingy at the end, your christian eyes can read it tho its not very descriptive????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuit_things/pseuds/biscuit_things
Summary: Iwaizumi loved to sing.He sang in the privacy of his bedroom, where only his walls were his audience. Sometimes, he’d sit on his roof in the middle of the night and sing so softly that the wind couldn’t carry his voice. Concealed from the world, each note carried pieces of his heart that he could trust none but two people with; the only two people he let hear him.The first was his mother, and Oikawa was proud to be the second.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 45





	serenade

In the darkness that the late hours of the night brought, Iwaizumi loved to sing. 

Not publicly. Not where anyone could hear and judge him, nor where prying ears could discover him. 

No, he sang in the privacy of his bedroom, where only his walls were his audience. Sometimes, he’d sit on his roof in the middle of the night and sing so softly that the wind couldn’t carry his voice. Concealed from the world, each note carried pieces of his heart that he could trust none but two people with; the only two people he let hear him.

The first was his mother. 

His mother was his biggest fan. Whenever he sang in his room, she would stand just outside, ear pressed to his door, eyes closed, and hand over her heart. She often asked him to sing when they were home alone and the silence was becoming a bother, even going as far as buying a karaoke set for Friday night mother-and-son shenanigans. The sweetness of his voice resonated throughout the usually quiet house whenever they used it. She always reminded him of his talent, that he was special, that whoever he married would be the luckiest person in the world.

He thought he’d be lucky to even get married.

Tooru Oikawa was the proud holder of the second title. 

Whenever he was over at the Iwaizumi household for their weekly sleepovers, he would wait until they were ready for bed before asking Iwaizumi to sing. Iwaizumi never said no, never could. He would sing mostly classics like the Backstreet Boys, or Westlife, sometimes the Eagles, but Oikawa thought he was better than the whole lot of them. His voice was raspy and raw, and it always prodded at Oikawa’s heart with the intent to kill, but at the same time, it was soft and sweet, pulling on Oikawa’s heartstrings, tugging harder with every word.

Just like it was right now, in Iwaizumi’s dorm room, in the seclusion of his kitchen. Oikawa had surprised him with a visit, despite Iwaizumi living in California and Oikawa in Argentina, and he’s positive he’s never made a better choice. Iwaizumi is standing in his pyjamas, hair still messy, cooking bacon for the two of them, hips moving ever so slightly with the tune of his song, and Oikawa gets hit with a strong sense of domesticity. The dim lighting of the kitchen with the faint smell of honey crushes at him and he wants nothing more than to experience this for the rest of his life. Iwaizumi’s song hits the chorus, and Oikawa begins to think that maybe it isn’t the bacon making him feel all gooey and mushy inside. 

-

When Iwaizumi returns to Japan, Oikawa is there to greet him. By waiting right inside his bedroom. Smile as radiant as the sun, Oikawa welcomes him into his arms as soon as the bedroom door opens and shuts, and he’s tackled onto the bed with a laughing Iwaizumi engulfing him in a bone-crushing hug. 

Banter and loud laughter fills the room until they’re able to calm themselves down. Lying next to each other on Iwaizumi's bed, Oikawa asks what Iwaizumi could only expect.

“Sing for me, Iwa-chan.”

And he does.

Oikawa comes to an important conclusion that afternoon. It most definitely wasn’t the bacon.

-

It’s one of those nights. 

Oikawa is dead-beat after losing a match to a rival team. To be fair, they had been a competition for some time now, and so they eventually had to win at least once, right? Oikawa couldn’t win all his matches.

It still hurt, though. 

It reminded him of his days in high school, pride practically leaking out of him whenever he wore the bright blue of his school’s jersey, only to lose to the unbeatable Ushijima Wakatoshi. It reminded him of how confident he was during his final school year, and how crushed he felt when he couldn’t even carry his team past Karasuno, couldn’t even take them to nationals like he promised he would. For a captain with an ego the size of his, he did a shit job of earning medals and trophies to show for it.

He opens the door to his apartment, turns on the lights, ready to sink into his sheets and pretend the world doesn’t exist, and is met with the sight of his best friend asleep on his couch. Distracted by the heat of his match, the weight of the loss, and pounding in his head, Iwaizumi’s visit completely flew over his head. It made him feel worse. He was so excited for the visit but couldn’t even make it to the airport, couldn’t even make it home first, to greet him.

The sudden illumination causes Iwaizumi to stir and sit up while Oikawa is taking off his shoes. He was probably having a really good nap, Oikawa thinks. Yet another reason to feel bad tonight. 

‘Oikawa. Welcome home.’ Sleep is evident in Iwaizumi’s voice and Oikawa’s heart aches even more. 

‘You, too.’ He places his shoes on the shoe rack and makes his way to his bedroom to gather his shower needs. He knows he should show Iwaizumi a little more enthusiasm, make him feel welcome, but he doesn’t have the energy, and so he thinks he’ll give that problem to his future self. 

‘I bought pizza. It’s in the micro,’ Iwaizumi says. Oikawa hears him following him, hears the quiet pat of socked feet behind him, but he makes no move to stop him nor carry the conversation.

‘Thank you, Iwa-chan.’

Oikawa lets the cold water in the shower calm his nerves and relax his overworked muscles. He knows there’s going to be a lot of upper-body pain to feel the next day, so he wants to stay under the cold spray for the rest of the night. He knows Iwaizumi is waiting for him outside the door, though, so when he finally gets out, his best friend is sitting on his bed doing just that.

“Bad match today?”

“Bad. Lost. Two sets to one. I don’t know where we went wrong.”

Iwaizumi nods and opens his arms. Oikawa eases himself into them and breathes in the sweet scent of Iwaizumi’s cologne, mixed with a slight dash of salt.

“You’ll get them next time. You’re the king of the court, after all.” He’d heard those words a total of fifteen times before he came home, but only when Iwaizumi speaks them does he believe it. So he buries his face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder and repeats those words in his head like a mantra, as if the more he said it, the more likely it was to come true. 

They sit there for a while, Oikawa situated between his best friend’s legs, arms around each other.

The next time either of them makes a noise, it’s Iwaizumi singing a slow melody, soft and slow for only Oikawa’s ears.

He falls asleep to the sound of his best friend serenading him. Warmth quickly replaces his sour thoughts and the soft drag of palms up and down his back pulls him into sweet slumber. 

In the darkness of his room, there’s just the two of them. Oikawa fits the pieces together, and decides who he wants to have a home with.

-

The crowd is enormous in the stadium. Cameras are flashing everywhere, screams coming from every nook and corner, and music blaring from the speakers. No less could be expected from the Olympics. There’s a lot to take in: the familiarity of the venue, how he was on home ground but also wasn’t at the same time, his acquaintances on the opponent’s team, and the red and white flag that he once dreamed of bearing. There’s a lot to take in, but Oikawa’s eyes are only on Iwaizumi, sitting with the other officials, hopeful for the match to come. When their eyes meet, it’s filled with fiery competition. Oikawa loves the fire in Iwaizumi’s eyes, and only hopes his eyes display the same. 

They don’t communicate throughout the entirety of the event. Not even days later when their teams are up against each other to shake each other's hands. But they know each other so well, they’ve got each other’s patterns ingrained so deep within their minds, that they don’t need to talk to know where to go after the hectics were clear.

And so Oikawa shows up at Iwaizumi’s apartment when the closing ceremony is done, two champagne bottles in hand. Iwaizumi lets him in, places a plate of food at the table for him and they talk and drink and drink and talk and talk and drink until their words begin to slur and their cheeks are dusted pink.

“Iwa-chan.”

“Mmm?” Iwaizumi replies from where his face is buried in his arms.

“Iwa-chaaaaan,” Oikawa prods again.

“Mmmmmmmmmm?”

“Iwa-chan, go to bed. You can’t sleep at the table. That’s bad manners.”

“No, YOU can’t have good sleep manners at the table.” 

Oikawa had always been better at holding his drink. 

“Are you calling me ill-natured?” Iwaizumi perks up then. His eyes become glossy and his eyebrows scrunch up in worry, the same way it does when he’s sober.

“No! No, I’m not! I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry, Tooru!” His eyes get even more glossed up.

“No, no, it’s okay, I was-”

“PLEASE FORGIVE ME!”

“Yes, I do, Iwa-”

“I know not what I do!’ And Oikawa knew the sentence too well.

He knows Iwaizumi well, so he also knows that he’s weak for Bryan Adams’ songs. And he knows damn well that that sentence was straight out of one of them.

“Pleeeaaase forgive meeee,” The tune is familiar, too, but Iwaizumi’s voice is slack. Oikawa still likes it, though.

“If I need you like I do!” Iwaizumi dramatically stands up, half wobbly. “Don’t deny me! This pain I’m going through!” He plops himself into Oikawa’s lap and the brunet’s laugh is quickly replaced by the realisation of their positions. His face grows beet red and he’s glad Iwaizumi’s tipsy or he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“I can’t stop loving you,” Iwaizumi falls asleep right then and there, head on Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Me neither,” he whispers into Iwaizumi’s hair as he carries him into bed.

-

They move in together not long after the Olympics are done. Iwaizumi decided he would further his studies in Japan and Oikawa wanted to start his and keep volleyball on the side for now. It’s an insanely warm arrangement for Oikawa. He gets to wake up to the smell of breakfast being cooked and goes to sleep knowing his best friend is just a door over. He hears Iwaizumi’s songs even more often now, his voice getting better and better with each new note that spills out from between his lips. Oikawa’s never been so sure of what he wanted more than he was right now. He just isn’t sure he’s got the bravery to make it mean what he wants it to mean. So he pretends it's all his dream come true and hopes to the gods up above that his best friend doesn’t notice how in love he is with him and abandons him.

Fridays were reserved. It’s unspoken, but neither of them were allowed to have Friday night plans, simply because it was reserved for each other. Tucked under one blanket, Iwaizumi’s head resting on Oikawa’s shoulder, the movie playing is just background noise as they whisper to each other. It’s nothing special, really. To be frank, it was just stupid jokes they had picked up over the years.

“Oikawa, what’s the difference between a snowman and a snowwoman?”

“What is it?”

“Snow balls.” That one earns a snicker from Oikawa.

“Iwa-chan, did you know that Queen Elizabeth the second went to school with this really old boat-maker?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. His name was Noah.”

Iwaizumi’s deep chuckles could be heard, and there’s a gentle tug at Oikawa’s heartstrings. Those have been common since they’ve moved in together. It’s begging him to pay more attention to Iwaizumi’s legs overlapping his, Iwaizumi’s arms linked with his, Iwaizumi’s breath, Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi-

He breaks out into a song.

It’s the same one that’s playing on the TV, but Oikawa can only hear the voice next to him. It’s clean, raw, pure, and Oikawa wants nothing more than to drown in it, to hear it til the day he’s laid to rest, to build a house in it and live in it. Iwaizumi shuffles closer to him, legs tangling with Oikawa’s, and his hand lands over Oikawa’s chest. It's insanely close, insanely intimate, even for them, and Oikawa has to fight the blush that's threatening to claim his cheeks and ears. Iwaizumi is still singing. The taller man can feel the vibrations from his throat as it travels between them, and Iwaizumi fits the palm of his free hand into Oikawa’s.

There was no fighting the blush now. 

Iwaizumi’s song ends and his eyes meet with Oikawa’s when he looks up. The air is thick between them, there’s electricity all around, and the glow from the TV is just illuminating Iwaizumi’s facial features. There’s a softness to Iwaizumi’s expression and Oikawa risks it all in one fell swoop.

He gently presses his lips to Iwaizumi’s.

He doesn’t feel hesitance, just feels his best friend push his lips closer. There’s static all around him, and his ears are bursting, but the gentle push and pull of their lips ground Oikawa as their kiss deepens. Oikawa brings his hand to cup Iwaizumi’s jaw, and Iwaizumi’s arms wrap tightly around Oikawa’s torso. Fire engulfs them as they kiss deeper, passion fueling the strength of the flames, and nothing is stopping it. They kiss and peck and nip at each other's lips, their tongues explore each other’s mouths, teeth clanking together as they change angles over and over; there’s bite marks and red bruises from where they suck on skin and hands find their way underneath shirts. They’re going fast, but it's all snail-paced to Oikawa, and he feels himself drowning.

When they begin to slow down, it’s because their lungs are bursting with the need for oxygen, but neither of them fully pull away. Once they stop, their lips remain in a slight hover above each other’s. They share the air between them. 

When their eyes meet, it's full of affection and love, and Oikawa’s heart nearly bursts from the impact.

His best friend is straddling him, arms around his neck, eyes staring deeply into his own; Oikawa never wants to forget, so he etches the sight deep into his memory where it could never sneak out.

They’ve come so far with each other, been through so much together, that this, now, them - everything feels right to Oikawa, like they’re perfect fits on a jigsaw puzzle, and he laughs against Iwaizumi’s lips. 

As he shifts so that they’re both lying on the bed below them, Oikawa feels a soft kiss on his nose, so he gives a peck right back, and tucks himself into Iwaizumi’s chest.

They have a lot to talk about. There’s a lot being left unsaid in between them, but for now, with just each other to hold on to, Oikawa leaves those problems for his future self.

His present self can indulge now, because he can, and the gods be damned if he won’t.

**Author's Note:**

> so like i wrote this on a whim to add to my portfolio for a zine i was applying for and i thought "hey this is kinda nice ish" so here it is hehe
> 
> i feel like my writing has been lacking lately, esp with part 2 of that royalty au. if you're following that series, what do you think????
> 
> [come scream at me!!!1!](https://instagram.com/biscuit.things)


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